


Trying Times

by jackiestolz



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackiestolz/pseuds/jackiestolz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony helps Ian through some trying times when his mother is hospitalized, and they learn a bit about what they really want out of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying Times

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously no ill will is directed towards Ian's mother, I wish her nothing but health and happiness. I hope you all enjoy, feel free to leave a comment and let me know :) There's a little fluff in here that I'm not used to writing, so idk hope you like it though!!

It was just another day. That's how it always is, isn't it. You don't expect something to go wrong, you don't expect to get hurt. It just hits you out of nowhere, steals from you, leaves you to deal with the hectic aftermath.

He was filming, that's all. Average day on set. Joking around with the crew, talking to Anthony, doing a few scenes. Normal. Content.

The phone call came around noon. He was taking a moment between scenes to discuss the camera angle of a shot with Anthony and the camera man when he heard his phone vibrate on the table. He excused himself to get it, and heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, is this Ian Hecox?" A woman with a nasal voice asked him. There was a lot of noise around, what with the crew bustling about and Anthony's loud laugh from the other side of the room. 

"Yeah, who's this?" He was expecting a business phone call, some sort of meeting for Smosh.

"This is Nurse Fenton of the San Diego General Hospital. Is your mother Cheryl Hecox?"

All of the noise from the crew died away. It was just Ian for a moment, clutching his phone in sudden apprehension.

"Yeah, why? What happened?"

"Cheryl has suffered from an acute myocardial infarction and has been hospitalized in stable condition."

"What is that? What does that mean, is she okay?" The words rushed too quickly from his mouth, and panic rose within him like searing, acidic vomit. His concern had caused an instant cold sweat on his forehead, and his body shook with the need of knowing she was safe.

"A heart attack, sir. She seems to be alright, but the next twelve hours will be crucial for her. I highly recommend you come to see her." Her tone was professional. She was used to this sort of trauma.

There was at least fifteen people in the house with Ian, but he couldn't see or hear any of them. Only Anthony, whom he turned to, staring at his friend on the other side of the room, still laughing with the camera man. Anthony, after only a second, looked over to Ian, and saw the expression on his face. The fear and the confusion and the hurt. His laughing stopped immediately, the smile fell from his face. For a while, everything was a blur.

***

"Hey, I'm looking for Cheryl Hecox?" Ian heard Anthony say to the receptionist. He stood next to his friend, fighting the tears back from his already red eyes. He cried in the car. Anthony rubbed his arm as he drove, told him things would be alright in a soft voice. Ian felt like a child, weak and lost.

"Cheryl's unavailable for visitors right now." The man responds after checking his computer.

"Is she alright?" There was concern in Anthony's voice, real concern. He knew Cheryl since the sixth grade. She was his second mother, always kind and caring. She taught them both how to bake -- to impress girls of course. She helped them with homework and always volunteered to act in their videos.

"She's in critical condition, so she can't have visitors. It might be a while before she can see anyone."

"The nurse on the phone said she was stable." Ian spoke for the first time. The receptionist gave him a pained look.

"She's had another heart attack, sir."

Ian felt ready to collapse. His mom, his caring, wonderful mom, just had two heart attacks. And then she was there in that cold, isolating hospital, fighting for her life without her sons.

Sons, of course, was plural, because she had two. Two boys who loved her and loved each other. Who went back to Ian's house after visiting the local park to say hello to her. Who both called it home despite one not always living there, and another not really living there at all. It was home because it was lovely and familiar, home because of her.

"Ian, come here." Anthony grabbed his arm, and Ian realized he was a tad closer to the ground, as if he physically swayed. "Thank you, we'll wait for her." Anthony said over his shoulder to the receptionist, who nodded solemnly.

Anthony directed Ian to one of the many chairs in the waiting room, then sat beside him, not releasing his arm for a long moment. Ian took deep, steady breaths, and considered what was happening with a dull pain building up just behind his forehead.

It occurred to him that this was a very adult situation. That he would have to act so. Not that he hadn't before, he had business meetings for Smosh frequently enough to know what it was like in the cruel world of adulthood, but this was different. This wasn't following a dream, this was loss. This was acceptance of old age and a removal of some innocence he didn't even know he had. He was scared.

A warm hand rested itself on his own, and Ian looked down at it, knowing it was Anthony's because he'd memorized every aspect of his friend by then. Not caring how it looked to the staff walking around in the mostly empty waiting room, he moved so they were holding hands, and he rested his head on Anthony's shoulder, tears dripping down his cheeks. They stayed that way for a while.

It wasn't until about an hour later, when Anthony went to stretch his legs and get them both water from a vending machine down the hall, that Ian realized he ought to call his sister, tell her what happened. With shaking fingers he took his phone out of his pocket, but didn't call her, just staring at the screen. He was always the baby of the family, she being the elder he was always compared to. Sometimes he'd laugh at what a stereotype that was, then sometimes he'd give anything to have her place, as the respected one, the one who didn't drop out of college.

Anthony returned and sat next to him, silent. The news of his mother's heart attacks had worried him into submission, turning the normally vibrant young man into a nervous one, one who grinded his teeth and folded his hands in his lap too often. He looked over to Ian, who gave a pained sigh.

"I have to call my sister." Ian said, face blank.

Anthony nodded. The thought had occurred to him earlier, but he said nothing. It wasn't that he disliked Ian's sister, he didn't know her very well, but he knew that the woman's presence put Ian on edge. He strived to look and act like an adult whenever she was around, striving to make her think of him as more than just a kid brother. A friend, maybe, or an equal. Yet she took his humor and child-like mentality away from him, and it was something Anthony hated. But he mentioned none of this. 

Ian found his sister's contact and called, his breath hitched. Anthony put his hand on top of Ian's again, only a minuscule part of him saying it was wrong to do so.

"Well if it isn't my baby brother calling." Anthony could faintly hear the voice from the other end of the phone, and leaned in so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Hey, um, listen." Ian started out nervously, and Anthony distracted him with an encouraging nod.

"What, Ian, I'm kind of busy." She responded, and Ian took a deep breath before continuing.

"It's mom, she's in the hospital." It hurt him to say so, a pain that Anthony could hear in his voice, and it stabbed at his own heart.

"What? What happened, is she okay?" Her concern reminded Anthony that this woman, the cold, distant one he never really spoke to, was a human, a human with a mother.

"She, um, she had two heart attacks . . . and they -- they don't know." Ian coughed, his throat aching from all the crying he'd done that day. Anthony's chest pained to see his friend this way, and he sent a silent prayer that his mother would be alright.

"Oh my God." She said after a moment. "Have you called anyone else in the family?"

"No." Ian said, and Anthony could hear the tension in his voice. It wasn't that his family was especially awful, they never hurt him or caused any violence, but Ian disliked them nevertheless, for their crude personalities and lack of tact.

"Well call them, they'll take care of everything."

"I can handle this myself, thanks." Ian said crossly, and Anthony grasped his hand tighter. He looked up, and Anthony mouthed 'it's okay' in attempt to calm his friend down. Ian licked his lips and nodded, un-tensing slightly.

"Now what?" Anthony asked him, and Ian looked as though he hadn't the slightest clue. 

"I do have to call them." He sounded defeated. "I didn't want to admit it, but I have to."

"Your family? What do you think they'll do?" Anthony asked, large brown eyes never leaving his friend's face.

"Annoy the hell out of me." Ian said, then resumed seriousness. "Probably just start camping out in Mom's house until she gets better. That's what they always do. They bring food, blankets, and as much booze as they can carry, wreck the place, then leave."

"They sound fun." Anthony said sarcastically. "But I suppose you don't have a choice."

"Yeah. I'll call Aunt Laura right now." He lifted his phone to go through the contacts, and Anthony stood quickly.

"I'm gonna talk to the receptionist again." Anthony explained in a rush as he left Ian to his phone call. He was incredibly supportive of his friend, but had no desire to stick around and listen to that phone call.

The conversation with the receptionist was short, but dragged out as long as possible so Anthony wouldn't have to return to his chair. When he looked up to see Ian hanging up his phone, he thanked the receptionist for his time and headed back to his friend.

"How was she?" He asked tentatively.

"Drunk. As usual." Ian answered bitterly. "She's calling everyone else, and getting someone to drive her to Mom's house."

"Oh." Anthony answered the only way he could, by resting his hand on Ian's arm. A moment of silence followed.

"What did he say?" Ian asked, jerking his head in the direction of the receptionist.

"We're probably not gonna see Mom tonight." Anthony said, not feeling the need to say 'your mom' when he felt just as loved by her as her real son. "He suggested we stay here in the waiting room over night, and if she stabilizes in the next few hours, we might be able to see her in the morning."

"I guess I'll stay here then." Ian said after a moment of thought. "You should go, though, you've been here all day."

"No, I'm staying with you." Anthony said, determined. "I'm not leaving you now."

"Thanks." Ian said, looking down at the floor with slightly red cheeks. "It's almost six, by the way. Did you have anything planned with Kalel tonight?"

"Nah, she's going out with the girls. But didn't you have a date with Mel?"

"Yeah, at eight. I'll call and cancel, I'm sure she'll understand." Ian took out his phone once more, and Anthony wondered if he should listen in. He glanced at Ian, who gave him a grateful smile, and he decided to stay in his seat.

"Hey, Mel, I'm sorry, but I can't take you to the movies tonight." Ian started off, then grew quiet as she spoke. Anthony could hear a hint of hysteria in her muffled voice.

"Yeah, I know I promised, but-" Ian rubbed his forehead, and Anthony felt pity rise in him. Lately, Melanie had been strung out, with a lot of pressure from work and very little time with Ian. The result wasn't pretty.

"No, no, Mel, listen to me. Please just listen." Ian said, forcefully enough to stop her talking. "My mom's in the hospital, I'm staying here tonight."

There was a moment of silence between the friends as Mel spoke on the other end of the line.

"I -- I don't know." Ian said quietly, and Anthony noticed his eyes were looking teary once again. "Thanks, yeah -- oh, okay, bye."

He hung up awkwardly, and Anthony gave him a questioning look.

"Mel's just not so great with the uh, the emotional aspect." Ian said, putting his phone away. "Whatever."

"So I guess it's just you and me for now." Anthony said, hand still on Ian's arm. He moved so his hand was on top of Ian's, and Ian shifted so his head rested on his friend's shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long time, almost perfectly still, curled into the hospital chairs together. Each friend was the other's only comfort, but neither minded. Together, they had protection. Together, they nearly had peace.

***

It was around ten that night that Anthony started cracking jokes. Bad puns, stupid stories, whatever he could do to lighten the mood, for both their sake's. It was the first time since morning that Ian actually smiled, and every little turn of the corners of his lips gave Anthony the encouragement to go further, say more, do anything to keep his friend happy, if only for a moment.

At midnight they grew restless, and Ian, not wanting to sleep, paced around the waiting room, staring at the tiles. After a moment, Anthony noticed he was only stepping on the brown ones, and smiled sadly. His poor friend was tired and upset, and he was using such meaningless distractions as pacing and stepping on tiles to distract him.

"Ian, come here." Anthony said from his chair, and Ian obliged, dragging his feet with exhaustion. "You've been up since seven. Sit down and rest."

"But-"

"If a nurse has anything to say to us about Mom, I'll wake you up. But for now, get some sleep." Anthony said firmly, pointing to the chair next to him. Ian nodded, and sat, defeated.

"Make sure you wake me up, okay?" Ian settled into the chair, curling up like a small child.

"I will. I promise." Anthony swore, and watched as Ian slipped into a much needed slumber. Blinking, he shook himself in attempt to stay awake. He wanted to be there for his family.

***

Around four in the morning, the waiting room was still deserted, and Ian was still curled up in his chair, limbs bent at odd angles. His breath lightly tickled Anthony's neck, as his mouth was mere centimeters away. His head was leaning on Anthony's shoulder, and Anthony, still awake, was watching him idly. His arm hurt and his leg had long fallen asleep, plus he could feel the start of a headache brewing just behind his forehead, but he didn't move a muscle and just let his friend sleep.

Ian twitched, and Anthony's tired eyes looked him over in alarm. He curled tighter into a ball, then had a long stretch, and opened bleary eyes to examine his head rest.

"Anthony, go to sleep." He mumbled feebly, and Anthony smiled faintly.

"Shh." He attempted to silence him, but Ian shook his head.

"You've been up all night for me. I'll stay awake, you sleep." Ian groaned, attempting to sit up, but only moving his head up an inch. Anthony put a hand on his head, stroking his hair gently in attempt to push him back to sleep.

"Go to sleep." Ian mumbled again, his words slurred and his eyes squeezed shut. Anthony was more than exhausted, and knew he needed rest, but wanted to stay awake for his mom. He also knew, however, that he wasn't winning his battle, and decided to curl up on his chair as well. 

After Anthony repositioned himself in his seat, Ian put his head back on his shoulder, and Anthony lightly rested his cheek against Ian's head. The hospital smelled like plastic and harsh cleaner, but Anthony had the scent of Ian's shampoo, sweet and familiar. Together, they drifted off into a comfortable sleep, able to forget the situation they were in. 

***

Anthony woke up first, back aching as curling up in a chair wasn't the nicest way to sleep. His head was still resting on Ian's, but he lifted it to stretch and check his phone. It was half past six, which meant he'd only gotten two and a half hours of sleep. He groaned.

A nurse stepped into the waiting room, looking around at the empty chairs, then to Ian and Anthony.

"Excuse me, are you boys here for Cheryl Hecox?" The nurse asked, and Anthony quickly got on his feet, nudging Ian hard to wake him up.

"Yeah. Is she okay? Can we see her?" Anthony asked, and Ian, realizing they were talking about his mother, stood up as well.

"Mrs. Hecox has stabilized, but you can't see her yet."

"Then when can we?" Ian asked urgently. 

"Maybe in the afternoon, but I don't think you should stay here waiting for her. Go home, get some real sleep." She said sympathetically. "Maybe get something of Cheryl's, like a blanket or a book, to make her feel at ease."

"Okay, thanks." Anthony said, nodding, then grabbed Ian's arm. "Come on, Ian, Mom's gonna be fine."

He and Ian walked out of the hospital into the surprisingly chilly air, the sun already risen, but still low, a sign of Autumn's approach.

"We can go to Mom's house, get some stuff for her. And we can shower and get some food, too." Ian said as they walked toward's Anthony's car. 

"We can stop at a donut place on the way." Anthony agreed, then looked confused as Ian went to the driver's seat. "What are you doing?"

"I got more sleep than you." Ian responded. "It'd be safer for me to drive."

Anthony agreed, though he wanted to take more care of his friend. Together, they went to the donut shop on the way, both too tired for proper conversation. The next time either one spoke to the other, it was when Cheryl's home came into view.

"Crap." Ian said under his breath, and Anthony noticed there were several cars on the driveway and at the sidewalks surrounding the house.

"Is that your family?" Anthony asked, slightly alarmed. He had never met anyone in the family besides Ian's mother and sister (and once, a very drunk Uncle Scott), but had heard enough of Ian's complaints to be worried.

"Yeah." Ian turned and parked the car slightly away from the house, in the closest available space. "Look, no one should be up yet, it's only a little past seven, so let's just sneak in and find an empty room."

"Sure." Anthony said, grabbing the bag of donuts and walking to the front door behind Ian. It was unlocked, and they quietly slipped in.

"Jesus." Anthony whispered, shock at the state of the place keeping him from saying anything more. There were people everywhere, lying on couches and floors beneath jackets and blankets. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink and on the kitchen table, and some magazines on the counter were knocked onto the floor.

"Booze and a mess." Ian commented, passing a crushed beer can. "Come on, I bet no one took over Mom's room."

They tiptoed around the sleeping relatives, listening to their various volumes of snoring, until reaching Cheryl's bedroom, and finding it indeed to be empty. They went in and shut the door behind them, Anthony examining the place curiously. He very rarely entered her room, but found it to be nice, with the lacy white curtains and light green quilt on the bed giving it an old-fashioned, homey appearance.

"Let's eat those donuts, then you can take the first shower." Ian said, taking a seat on the bed. Anthony did the same, and the two sat cross-legged, facing each other, silent as they ate their breakfast.

"D'you think your family'll be giving you any trouble?" Anthony whispered, eating quickly. He hadn't realized how hungry he was -- neither had eaten since before filming the previous day. 

"Not serious trouble." Ian replied. "They're just a bunch of nuisances."

"Like flies on your food?" He finished his second donut and tore into a bear claw.

"Exactly." Ian said, taking a bite of his Boston Cream. "You'll have to sleep after you shower, if you sleep now, shower later the whole family will be up by then, you'd never get the opportunity."

"No problem." Anthony nodded, then went silent to eat for a minute more. Ian stood abruptly and left the room, but returned a short time later, holding two towels, some soap, and some shampoo.

"I leave some here just incase." Ian explained, holding up the bottles. "Shower's right there, be as quick as you can."

Anthony nodded, and, finished with his meal, grabbed one of the towels. He went into the bathroom across the hall, almost tripping over a wine bottle as he silently undressed. He took a quick shower, forgetting how nice the hot water felt against his cold skin. But he needed to rush, so he climbed out after a few minutes, then dried and redressed himself, exiting the bathroom so Ian could have his turn.

Ian was in his mother's room, folding a blanket, and nodded to Anthony as he stepped into the room. He tossed him an old Smosh shirt to wear instead of the one from the previous day, and Anthony had to hold back a laugh when he threw it on, nostalgia causing a smile to creep onto his face. 

"That's a spare pillow." He pointed to one of the pillows on the bed. "So don't worry about the wet hair, just get some rest. I'll be back in a minute."

Ian left to shower, and Anthony laid down on the bed, quickly getting comfortable. He was content and sleepy, starting to slip off when Ian returned. He felt the man's weight press down on the bed next to him, but said nothing.

"I've set the alarm on my phone for noon." Ian said, his voice low and gravelly with exhaustion. "Hopefully the family doesn't notice us until then."

"Mhm." Anthony moans, thinking of how awful his hair would look in the morning, but too dulled with weariness to actually care.

"Ant." Ian mumbled, turning on his side and inching slightly closer to him. "Thanks. For everything."

"No problem." Anthony whispered back, his brain barely registering it.

"No, seriously, thank you. I don't know how I would've gotten through this without you." His brain registered that one, and he gave Ian a response meant to sound casual, but was actually deeply true and personal.

"Well, I love you guys. You're my family." Anthony mumbled, feeling warm and numb lying on the soft bed, and dozed off shortly after Ian's response.

"I love you, too. We love you, I mean." 

And the two finally got their proper rest, and in their little realm of peace, there was nothing wrong with the world.

***

All good things must end, which was something that Ian bitterly reminded himself of as he awakened to a sharp beeping. Turning off the alarm on his phone, he yawned and stretched. Next to him, disturbed by his friend's motions, Anthony did the same. They looked at each other at the same time, Ian smiling weakly at Anthony's messy hair. They heard noises from outside the room, and Ian groaned as he sat up.

"That would be my lovely relatives." Ian muttered, cracking his knuckles. Anthony stood and looked out the window, examining the barely cloudy sky and the already fully risen sun. Opening the window, he took in a whiff of smoke and maple, mixed with a little of something familiar, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, that familiar Autumn scent.

"Fall's come early this year." He commented, turning to see Ian combing his hair through with his fingers. They heard raucous laughter in the other room.

"When they leave, I'll enjoy this weather with you." Ian said, bracing himself as if preparing for an impact. "For now, though, it's time to deal with the family."

Anthony sucked in his breath and nodded, and Ian opened the door. Walking through the hallway, they quickly spotted the family, all sitting at the table and couch, eating and loudly chatting. Dirty pans and dishes were askew on the counters, blankets tossed carelessly on the floor.

"Ian, boy, thought you'd never be up!" A man with greying, thin hair and an overall scruffy appearance yelled from the couch. He looked familiar to Anthony, but he figured that the man looked so average that there wasn't a way for him not to look familiar.

"I was in the hospital all night." Ian responded, walking into the kitchen and examining the clutter.

"So how is my sister?" A rotund woman barked from the table, holding in her hands a rather greasy bagel, complete with eggs and bacon.

"She's stable." Anthony answered, watching Ian get a plastic garbage bag out from beneath the sink. "But she can't have any visitors yet."

"See, look how polite he is. Why did it take us so long to meet your boyfriend?" The man said again, and Anthony felt he had good intentions, but poor mannerisms. 

"Uncle Scott." Ian said in a warning tone as he placed the beer cans into the garbage bag, making Anthony remember why the man looked so familiar. Anthony didn't mind that Ian didn't correct his uncle: honestly, he stopped caring if people called them a couple years ago.

"You don't visit enough. Kids these days, with their Walkman and their little flip phones." Uncle Scott mumbled, sipping his coffee, and Anthony stifled a laugh.

"Ignore him, he stopped paying attention in 2005." An older man on the couch called out. "When I get confused about pop culture, at least I know what to get confused about."

"Shut up, Hank." Uncle Scott replied, and with a laugh, began to tell a story to his family. Anthony looked over to Ian, who motioned him closer with a lean of his head.

"You should eat something." Ian said silently to his friend, who was standing close enough to him to hear him even if he was whispering. "Grab a bagel, sit down."

"What about you?" Anthony asked, not wanting to be alone with the family. They entertained him, but that didn't mean he wanted to befriend them.

"I'm not hungry. Just pull up a chair, it'll be fine." He said, and pushed the large paper bag full of bagels towards his friend.

"Fine." Anthony sighed, giving in, as he knew that when Ian got determined, there was no stopping him from doing something or winning an argument. 

Ian walked away, bag of cans and bottles in hand, and Anthony spread butter on his bagel. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to the couch as Uncle Bill started raving. "Now, I worked in that bagel place for twenty three years, and let me tell you something about bagels-"

Anthony spent the next ten minutes very slowly eating his bagel and listening to the family, who told mad stories that received protest and laughter. He spent the following ten minutes being (quite poorly) interrogated about Smosh, the family asking him questions about making videos and producing comedy on the website. They spent a large amount of that time talking over him, ranting about technology and the 'good old days.' Finally, he excused himself to the bathroom, effectively escaping. On his way through the house, he found Ian folding a blanket, one that a member of the family had undoubtedly brought along, and setting it atop a large pile of others. He looked tired.

"Ian, have you been cleaning?" Anthony questioned, confused, and Ian nodded.

"Can't let the house become a total dump, now can I." He said, and Anthony could hear a tinge of anger in his voice, no doubt a result of his familial stress. "Did you finish eating?"

"Yeah, why?" 

"We should go see Mom." Ian answered. He crossed the hallway, entering his mother's bedroom, and Anthony followed. In there, he grabbed a blanket and the James Patterson novel from the bedside table. "Let's go."

***

The ride to the hospital was silent. Ian's annoyance with his family members put a tension on the first few minutes of the car ride, but as Anthony watched him silently, he calmed down, worry replacing anger. Ian would not forget his mother's illness just because of a few drunken men.

Upon walking in, the pair immediately spoke to the receptionist, who (at last) allowed them to see their mother. They rushed down the hallway to her room, both parties looking incredibly nervous.

"Ian." Anthony started. "Listen, if she doesn't seem okay, that's fine, the doctors said she'll recover."

"I know." He said, with a deep breath and a nod. "But that doesn't mean I'm not scared for us."

_For us_. For his family.

"Ian, look at me. Look at us." Anthony responded. "We've just had the two crappiest days of our lives. We were pulled from filming because our mom had two heart attacks, we spent almost eighteen hours in a hospital waiting room, we hid from your family. My hair looks like shit, you look close to a nervous breakdown, and both of us have had under ten hours of sleep this whole time. But we're together, okay? That's what matters."

"Wow, Anthony, I'm not sure that speech was dramatic enough." Ian said, trying to distract himself from the situation. Anthony almost laughed, then got serious and looked at the door. Ian grabbed his hand, feeling no shame in it, and walked into the room.

Cheryl Hecox was lying in a hospital bed in a sickly green hospital gown. There was a constant beeping from the machine she was hooked up to, and she looked frail and tired, yet peaceful in her sleep. Ian and Anthony approached her slowly, their footsteps silent. She opened her eyes slowly, peering into the light at Anthony.

"Anthony?" She questioned in a low voice. "What the hell is wrong with your hair?"

Anthony was stunned, but as soon as Ian started laughing, he joined in, and the family just giggled foolishly together for a moment. Ian tentatively hugged his mother, then both sat at the edges of her bed, grateful to see her alright.

"How are you feeling, Mom?" Ian asked, holding her small hand in his two larger ones.

"I'm just a little sore and tired, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" She gave him a little smile, squeezing one of his hands as she did so. 

"I'm fine, Mom, we're great." He looked over to Anthony, who wore a small smile.

"I'm glad. You boys are too good to me." She said, grabbing Anthony's hand with her free hand. Anthony twisted his hand around the pulse-taker and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It's not a problem, Mom." Anthony mumbled, feeling awkward at not calling her by her name, and instead by how he felt about her.

"I mean it, Ant." Her smile grew larger when he called her his mother. "You're both such good kids, always so caring. My lovely boys."

The rest of their short visit consisted of murmured words, comforting looks, and reassuring glances. They were helping each other, helping to rebuild their wonderful family.

***

The next week passed in a lengthy blur. Ian and Anthony packed some bags and temporarily moved into Ian's childhood home, taking care of the place the best they could. Ian's large family stayed there, too, an odd vigil for a home that didn't need them, but welcomed them anyway. Smosh videos were filmed the classic way, just Ian and Anthony, which gave them enough nostalgia to practically hurt them.

Jane returned from the hospital after a few days, and spent her time in bed, resting, while her family watched over her, and Ian cleaned after all of them. Anthony spent most of his time torn between entertainment and annoyance because of the family that was quickly taking him in, but the feeling wasn't unpleasant. 

***

Cheryl had been sent to the hospital exactly one week prior when Ian found himself outside, cutting the roses. Anthony stood and looked at him from the back door, watching the man work, before approaching him. The air was chilly and it was about to pour, a light drizzle already setting in his friend's hair. Ian held a blank face, but Anthony knew his friend well enough to feel the stress just beneath. Times were hard.

"Cutting the roses?" He asked, and Ian nodded.

"Taking off the dead buds. It's good for the plant and makes it prettier." Ian answered, not caring if he sounded foolish. His mother usually cared for her treasured rose garden, and Ian would be damned if it fell to ruin at her temporary absence from it.

"Did Mel call?" Anthony asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Ian responded, snipping a bud. "She doesn't do anything serious like this. When Mom's feeling better, that's when she'll call back."

"You don't deserve that." Anthony said, angry but holding back.

"Nah, it's fine, it's not-" He stopped and shook his head. "I just don't think it's gonna work out with her. She's great, but, I don't know."

"Not what you're looking for?" Anthony asked, and turned away when Ian looked at him, brow raised. "I know the feeling. Kalel's pretty and nice, yeah, but it just doesn't feel right."

"Yeah." Ian said, resuming his handiwork. "It feels like everyone else thinks you're perfect for each other, but you're kind of just settling."

Both went silent for a moment, staring at the wet dirt and grey sky. They each had someone in mind who had what they wanted, but neither said a thing aloud, too uncertain to test rough waters. 

"Ian?" Anthony finally said a minute later, feeling awkward.

"Yeah?"

"I think your aunt has a slight alcohol problem." He pointed to the still figure on the other side of the yard, which Ian quickly realized was his Aunt Laura sleeping on the grass next to an empty champagne bottle.

"We shouldn't laugh at that." Ian mumbled.

"Yeah."

They burst into laughter, so loudly and so fully that they clung to each other, and tears filled their eyes. With so much stress and so much mayhem, they could still calm each other down, still help each other move on.

***

A few more days followed like the others did. The blur, pressurized on them all. The rowdy family became less of a novelty, and more of a nuisance, with more and more liquor being consumed each day. Cheryl, oblivious in her bedroom, was getting better, but the one to truly worry about was Ian.

Anthony, for the most part, did that, almost all day. He saw Ian cook, clean, go to the store, take care of the yard, even do editing and business for Smosh. And the poor man never asked for help, or thanks, or even a call back from his girlfriend. He felt a desire (one that no longer felt as odd as it once did, years ago) to hug him until he begged to be let go.

It was that afternoon, a few days after they had to carry in the hilariously drunk Aunt Laura from the yard, that he finally realized he was about to give in to that desire, that and just a little bit more. Ian was walking quickly through the kitchen, where Anthony was sitting at the table, editing a video on his laptop.

"Ian, what's up?" He asked, seeing the angry look on his friend's face. He knew immediately that Ian had finally broken.

"These stupid drunks are 'what's up.'" Ian stopped, looking cross. "I'm tired of dealing with them, they're ruining everything."

From the other room, the pair heard someone cheer as the sound of a crunching beer can emanated through the walls.

"But they're your family, you're supposed to deal with your family." Anthony countered.

"I don't want to deal with my family." Ian said, sounding childish. He sighed, calming himself down, then looked Anthony in the eyes, obviously tired. "Except you and Mom."

Anthony stared at him for a minute, then stood, mumbling something, but he wasn't sure of what he said. He would later remember it to be something along the lines of "I love you, you complete idiot," but he'd always be too distracted with what came next to bother caring.

He rushed towards Ian, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He had only a moment to notice the confusion prominent in Ian’s flawless blue eyes before he closed his own, then pulled him into a kiss. Their lips smashed together too hard, but neither pulled away. Ian grabbed Anthony's arms and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, all tongues and madness and chaos, and Anthony at last taking what he wanted.

"Get a room!" Uncle Scott barked, walking into the kitchen to see the two men caught in their passionate embrace. They broke apart, faces an inch away from each other, both breathing heavily and smiling. And both, once again, burst into laughter.

Because that's how it worked with them. They had their poor moments, and their tragedies, and their heartache, and in the end, after all of it, it was them. They were family, and they were meant to be together, to love each other, and to handle life together, for the rest of their time. And so they did.

 


End file.
